FicWad

A/N: Urgh. I'm really tired 'cause school's been insane, so I'm not so sure about the overall quality of this next installment, but I don't think it's too bad. And yes, I totally listen to Johnny Cash on a regular basis.

Disclaimer: I do not own the lyrics to "Ring of Fire".

Song Used: Johnny Cash's "Ring of Fire".


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Twenty-Four: Ring of Fire
Puppet: Cormac O'Kane


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Love is a burning thing,
And it makes a fiery ring,
Bound by wild desire,
I fell into a ring of fire...

I couldn't take my eyes off her.

God knows I tried. I tried staring hard at my feet, but my gaze just kept crawling upward to look at her because she was much more delicate and interesting to look at. I attempted to look like I was admiring the sky, but I just kept thinking of how her eyes were the same color and that I'd rather be looking at those, regardless of how lucky we were to have a clear day. I tried to look at the colorful Christmas decorations people had set out in front of their yards a little early, but then I kept thinking about mistletoe and couldn't help but wonder if her lips were as soft as they looked.

I tried. But I just couldn't take my eyes off her.

Everything about her was perfect. Her eyes were just the right shade of blue, somehow matching both the hue of the sea and the sky. Her raven hair, dark and making those eyes all the more startling, crisply grew upward and backward in the oddest yet most sensible of places, giving it the intriguing appearance of being black flame. Her face, sharply cut, was an excellent blending of that of a thoughtful creature with slightly knitted brows and one of an eager one with wide, curious eyes. Her body, clad in a royal blue practice jersey that had a '5' (her lucky number; as if she needed one) on the back and a pair of yellow basketball shorts, was a perfect balance between delicacy and strength. She was shorter than me by about two inches and had the long, thin muscles of a racer.

I absently flexed my arm, smiling in slight satisfaction of the power surging through the limb. I, on the other hand, was a brute, weighing almost two hundred pounds, most of it being muscle and sinew; I was a much better fit for the football team than on the basketball one.

“Mac?” even her voice, a low, sultry feminine sound coming from her chest, was beautiful, “What do you keep staring at?”

She was looking at me, and though I felt embarrassment trying to tug my eyes away, I looked back with all the boldness of a wounded wild tiger glaring defiantly into the eyes of its killer. She had been my best friend since we were just half the size we were now. I shouldn't be afraid of her. I should've been honest with her.

I loved her. I could think of no other explanation for the rush of warmth, the quick development of happiness that I got whenever I looked at her. I didn't care that she was seeing someone else. It was worth getting burned. She needed to know.

“Perfection.” I answered, a tiny smile slipping across my face.

Those wide blue eyes got even wider, as if a spark had suddenly leapt from me to her. I wasn't sure what happened after that, but the next thing I knew she was in my arms and I was kissing her with all the fire I'd kept inside.

I fell into a burning ring of fire,
I went down, down, down,
And the flames went higher,
And it burns, burns, burns,
The ring of fire,
The ring of fire...

I couldn't tell if it was the joyous relief of finally knowing what her lips felt like or if it was the thrill of kissing someone else's girl and the hope that we wouldn't get caught that caused my excitement. All I knew was that the blaze in my soul almost flared to the point of combustion.

I didn't even notice the fact that she wasn't kissing me back.

So engrossed was I in sinfully relieving myself of my burden that I was blind and deaf to the uncomfortable rigidness of her body, the pressure against my chest as she tried vainly to push me away, and the soft cry of surprise and fear squeaking up from under my lips. She squirmed helplessly and I, in animal-like refusal to let her go, squeezed her closer, ignoring the screams of my head and heart telling me that this was wrong.

It felt good. That was all that mattered. She could struggle all she wanted, but I was still stronger than she was and I would get what I wanted.

Once I'd had enough of trying to fight with her I released her with a boorish purr of satisfaction, feeling mighty pleased with myself for being so clever in discovering a way to tame the fire. I smiled at her, choosing to be unaware of the horrified way she was looking at me.

My mind was still shouting at me, but I realized that I could tune it out. I smiled wider. I was free. “Jesus, you act like I just tried to kill you,” I chuckled, “I wasn't going to hurt you.”

“You...you...”

She was speechless. Her eyes were wider than I thought humanly possible and her lips, freshly tainted with the kiss of someone who was not her lover, were slightly parted in open-mouthed astonishment. A strand of hair, displaced by my aggressive movement, had fallen in front of her eyes, ruining the perfection of her face.

I reached out to fix it and restore flawlessness, but my hand was quickly smacked aside and fell limply to my side in surprise.

I stared at her in amazement, hardly aware of the tingling pain her firm open hand had inflicted upon one of my own. I blinked in wonder as her image began to recede, not understanding why she was going. That was the wrong way.

Her eyes were glittering, but not with happiness or anything even remotely related to it. To my confusion, I realized it was with tears. My head whirled, befuddled by all of this; this wasn't the way it was supposed to go, was it? “Paige...I...”

I didn't get to finish. She turned and ran from me without a word.

I fell into a burning ring of fire,
I went down, down, down,
And the flames went higher,
And it burns, burns, burns,
The ring of fire,
The ring of fire...

Pain was having one's face almost ripped off by an angry dog. I'd know. It happened to me when I was only six years old, and I had the many scars on my face left by its teeth as proof of the incident. If there was one thing I feared most in this world, it was going near dogs. Every time I wandered past someone's canine friend, I just couldn't help but see the creature that had attacked me all those years ago. Sometimes, the damaged muscles underneath some of the marks still hurt; a sharp, stabbing pain that was impossible to ignore but nowhere near the agony of getting them in the first place. I had been lucky to escape with both my eyes.

Pain was getting one's nose broken by some punk who took advantage of the one's weakness. I would know all about that one, too, because that was what was happening to me at the moment.

Yes, those things hurt.

But I can't think of anything that had hurt worse than looking at my best friend, seeing a dark, wary fear in the eyes I thought were so beautiful, and knowing that all of it was completely my own damned fault.

I was on my knees now, gingerly holding my nose as it dripped warm, sticky blood and biting back a cry of anguish at the black pain. I made no effort to get up and hit him back; it wasn't his fault. He loved her, too, and he was only trying to make sure she knew that by kicking the crap out of the guy who'd caused her pain. And if I hurt him...

She would hate me more than she already did.

“C'mon!” he barked, his fists raised and ready to go again in the only way we boys knew how to settle things, “Get up, unless you think she's not worth it!”

I gritted my teeth and squeezed my eyes shut. A flame flickered angrily in my chest at the very idea of what he was saying, despite the fact that the better part of me knew he was just trying to rile me up. Of course she was worth it! I would go through Hell and back if it meant that she would love me (and from the looks of things I was already there), but if I fought with him...

I stood up, hands and face stained with my own blood. I glared at my rival with narrowed eyes and a hardened heart, hating him for stealing her away when I had been the one who had loved her first. He glared right back with a similar smoldering hatred, but hesitated, obviously taken aback by the intensity of the return look he was getting.

I took my chance. Like a pouncing panther I leapt at him and he, unable to dodge, took my full weight for only a second before buckling.

The two of us crashed to the ground and I fought like Hell.

The taste of love is sweet,
When hearts like ours meet,
I fell for you like a child,
Oh, but the fire went wild...

“So let me get this straight: you got into a knock-down drag-out fight with Nick Jonas?”

I nodded miserably, hiding my battered face in my hands and wishing that I'd been able to keep my emotions in check. She was never going to forgive me for this. “Gave him a black eye and a couple of bruises he's not gonna forget anytime soon.”

Keefe laughed as if it was actually something very funny rather then gravely serious. He patted my shoulder. “Awesome,” he commented, his voice dripping with a sadistic chuckle, “it's about time someone showed him who's boss.”

I took away my hands and glanced at him in the mirror, only to have my eyes drawn back to the face looking back at me. I felt like I was looking at a mere shadow of what I'd been this morning; my nose had stopped bleeding, but now it was even more crooked than already had been. There was a large bruise on my right cheek and my muscles felt overworked. I felt like I'd been run over by a bus.

“Did you win?”

I blinked dumbly at him, too tired to be angry that he wasn't being as helpful as I would have liked. “What?”

He narrowed those piercing eyes and repeated the question. “Did you beat him?”

I pressed my lips together for a moment. I had beaten him, but I really didn't want to parade that fact in front of anyone. If I talked too much, it would seem as if I was proud that I'd hurt him, and then I'd really be in trouble.

I wasn't proud. I was ashamed. If I hadn't kissed her, all of this never would've happened. She wouldn't have gone and told Nick all about it, and he wouldn't have gotten angry and come after me. If he hadn't come after me, he wouldn't have tried to fight with me. If he wouldn't have tried to fight with me, I never would've gotten angry at him. If I never had gotten angry at him, I never would've jumped him like that.

I never meant to cause so much trouble, especially for her. She didn't deserve any of this. I had thought that a kiss would make things better, and for a moment, I suppose it did. The flames licking at my heart had been subdued for those quick four or five seconds, but now...

“Yeah.” I answered finally.

“Why did he come after you in the first place, anyway?”

I bit the inside of my cheek. “I kissed Paige.”

“Oh, man,” Keefe's voice was suddenly low, “you're goin' to Hell for sure.”

I fell into a burning ring of fire,
I went down, down, down,
And the flames went higher,
And it burns, burns, burns,
The ring of fire,
The ring of fire...

I couldn't believe I was actually doing this.

I stared hard at the door that separated me from the lion's den as if I could somehow encourage it to talk me out of this, but it remained cold and silent, unblinking and inanimate. The bruise on my cheek ached still, but not nearly as much as it had since yesterday.

I took a deep breath. It was now or never. With knuckles that had only 24 hours ago been connecting with one of the house's occupant's face, I knocked on the door and waited patiently for someone to answer. All too soon it swung open to reveal a sullen, beaten Nick Jonas, his curls mussed as if he'd just gotten out of bed and his right eye surrounded by an ugly dark bruise.

“Hi.” I said awkwardly.

If looks could kill, I would've been dead a million times over in just a few seconds. “Hi,” he replied with all the frigidness I deserved, “what do you want?”

I drew in another sigh, gathering up my courage so I could say the one of the three hardest things to tell someone. “To say I'm sorry.” I answered, hoping I sounded sincere and that he would at least believe me. He didn't have to say he was sorry too. Hell, he didn't even have to forgive me. Just so long as he knew I never meant for any of this to happen.

He blinked in surprise. He obviously hadn't been expecting any kindness from me anytime soon, but I didn't really blame him. “It's...okay...” he said hesitantly, as if he wasn't really sure if he meant it. And after all I'd put them through, I think it was safe to say that he didn't.

A tense silence spread between us, neither one really sure if he should even be there or not, much less what they should say. Immediately my thoughts jumped to her and her well-being; I hadn't seen or talked to her since the day I'd kissed her on the way home from practice, but I was afraid of asking.

I took the leap anyway. “Is Paige doing okay?”

Instantaneously it was like something went off in Nick's head and I knew it had been a bad idea to ask. His eyes seethed and smoldered with an intense loathing that I knew I was mentally being raked over hot coals, and when he spoke, his voice was so low and dangerous it was like the buzzing of a saw.

“You stay away from her.”

And it burns, burns, burns,
The ring of fire,
The ring of fire,
The ring of fire.


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A/N: Yeah, I know the song didn't really seem to fit very well, but if you read it again, look for the references to fire, Hell, and other hot things and you'll see what I was trying to do here. XD

...And yes, Nick Jonas does count as a hot thing.